


A Long, Long Time

by monbebemuseum



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Bipolar Disorder, Depression, Destiny, First Person, Implied Sexual Content, Light Angst, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Minor Character Death, Supernatural Elements (angels), ot9 displayed, short and sweet, sort of poetic, written choppily for effect
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-18
Updated: 2018-01-18
Packaged: 2019-03-06 14:43:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,983
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13413459
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/monbebemuseum/pseuds/monbebemuseum
Summary: Chanyeol is different. He's depressed and quiet and doesn't have many friends. When his mother passes and he meets someone, he experiences a sensation he hasn't in a long, long time. Most simply described as: happiness.





	A Long, Long Time

**Author's Note:**

> started; one thirty-two pm, jan. fourteenth twenty-eighteen
> 
> ended; two twenty-six pm, jan. fourteenth twenty-eighteen

"My childhood was simple and quiet,

pleasant even.

Filled with smiles and laughter, 

without deceiving. 

That was before I watched myself,

wash away.

Before everyday I began to wish,

there was no yesterday.

A lie, a lie.

That was all it was.

I wasn't living anymore,

I had stopped.

My thoughts became corrupted,

my mind surrounded by death.

I just wanted it all to end,

for me to be at rest.

 

I wished I could give up,

I wanted to give up.

But instead I raised my head,

and I smiled once again.

 

Depression started to control my every move.

My parents eventually began confused.

"You need help," they told me,

more like yelled.

"Go get help," they whispered,

I wished I was in hell.

It's scary,

it really, really is.

Watching the you you know,

the you grew up with.

The you that everyone knew,

die.

I watched myself die.

 

I wished to give up,

I wanted to give up.

But instead I raised my head,

and I smiled once again."

-

I'm Park Chanyeol. I'm a composer, and I have depression.

There's not much to my life. I grew up with a nice family, one that took care of me at the least. I had all As throughout school, took all AP classes and ended high school with a 5.0. I started writing poems in the third grade. At first it was to vent and get my feelings out. If I didn't, I would explode. Then I started entering my works in competitions, giving them away to poets that needed a kick start. At 13 I had seventeen published works. At 18 I have one hundred and sixty two. 

I decided to be a composer in the seventh grade when someone made one of my poems into a song. I could sing, as my parents forced me to take vocal lessons all through primary school. It wasn't something I didn't enjoy, but I never enjoyed things I was forced into. When I did it on my own time though, it made me happy. 

I was diagnosed with severe anxiety and major depressive disorder at 14. I was re-diagnosed with severe anxiety, major bipolar depressive disorder, and anorexia at 16. I never had many friends. I was a quiet kid, never talked to anyone I didn't have to. There was one boy, Jongdae, who started talking to me around fifth grade. He was nice, different. He didn't mind that I never talked back, or that something seemed wrong with me. He would let me cry in his arms when I needed to, run his hands through my hair during one of my fits to calm me down. 

On my 15th birthday I realized I was gay. That was also the day I lost my virginity. It was scary, but it was with someone I trusted dearly. Jongdae was gentle, like he knew what he was doing. It was a bit confusing, but it wasn't unpleasant. I told him I loved him that day, and he said he loved me too.

Me and Jongdae broke up our senior year. It wasn't an unhappy parting, and we swore to remain friends. Though we did love each other, we both realized it wasn't the same type of love that it was when our relationship began. That we worked better as friends. We would fight a lot, throw things across the room at each other and scream. Then we would have sex and pretend like it was all okay. We started to think that maybe if we just quit talking and keeping what we disagreed with to ourselves, that maybe it would work out. Maybe we would stay in love and end up happy. We didn't, if that much isn't obvious. So, we swore to stay friends. We swore but,

me and Jongdae don't talk anymore.

It's my first year in college. I moved from England to Korea to attend Seoul University after I unexpectedly got accepted. I mean, I knew I would get accepted, but my mum still cried. I'm British-Korean. It's fine, I guess. I'm unhappy, but I stopped trying to be happy a long time ago. I take four types of medicine every morning, and because of this I have a routine. Everyday is the same. Same classes, same people. Same words, same pen strokes. 

My roommate is nice. His name is Byun Baekhyun. He helps me a lot. Some days, just to break me out of my routine, he takes me out with his friends. They're all nice as well. Jongin, Sehun, Minseok, Yixing, and Junmyeon. They sometimes take me out to eat. I think Jongin notices. He usually sits by me and helps me eat what's on my plate, we always share. Every time I go out with them, he encourages me to eat a bit more. I'm lanky and tall, and also very skinny. He knows. I appreciate him a lot, for helping. 

My mum died yesterday. It wasn't that much of a shock, I felt it coming. Even with lung cancer, she never stopped smoking. "I don't belong to be on this Earth anymore." My mum had depression too. 

I'm at her funeral today. They made me make a speech. I threw up in a flower bed outside afterwards. There was this boy, Kyungsoo. I had never seen him before, but he said he was one of my mum's friend's sons. I believed him. I had never felt so utterly comfortable around someone; especially around someone I had never seen before. I talked to him first. 

I hadn't talked to someone first in four years. 

After I had paid respects to my mother, we sat down in the far back at a two-seater. I wasn't sure why there were tables in this funeral parlor, but I didn't know why she wanted her service to be here either so I decided not to ask. We talked a lot. It was actually nice. I smiled. I laughed. I haven't laughed since I was young. It confused me, why him? Why this boy? Again, I didn't question it. I just accepted that maybe, just maybe, I had found someone important. 

We talked for a long time. He ended up coming back to my dorm with me. He was short. Really, really short. I noticed that when I had to bend down really far to kiss him. He kissed me back while standing on his tippy toes. 

Baekhyun was out tonight so I let Kyungsoo stay. Quiet conversation filled the silence for a majority of the time that the small clock above my bed displayed. I watched the hours go by unconsciously, glancing up on the dot every other hour. I had figured out a pattern a few years back, yet I don't know how. I don't even have to try and keep up with it anymore, whenever I look up it's always just a perfect hour. 7:00 or 9:00 blinking back at me in the dim lighting of my room. 

Kyungsoo told me he had been waiting for me a long, long time. I decided to question him on it, and he told me he was proud of me. That I hadn't asked a question in all the time he had been looking over me. I responded by asking him if he was a stalker. 

His back arched off the wall and he laughed, his lips turning into a near perfect heart shape that made my own heart melt. The yellow light hit him perfectly, making his cheekbones shine with such beautifully natural highlight. I laughed too, even if I was being serious. 

The night dragged on and we became sleepy, yet we didn't sleep. We continued to talk about everything and nothing all the same. I had never understood that cliche quote until I experienced it firsthand, and it was absolutely something to live for. Kyungsoo was different too, I soon learned. Maybe not different in the same way as Jongdae, but he was different. He told me that he wasn't a stalker, just an angel. It was my turn to laugh and he pouted. It was something unexpected and crazy and completely made up, yet I believed him.

I expressed my thoughts to him, thoughts of confusion and dismay, yet of trust. He smiled then, and I smiled back. He went on to explain that he had been watching over a lot of people for a while. His father had told him that there was someone in the universe that was perfect for him, but he refused to tell him whom. "You'll know when you see them," Kyungsoo had said in a lacking imitation of his father's voice, but I didn't laugh. Instead, I rolled over to face Kyungsoo on the bed that we were both occupying. 

Kyungsoo watched me with ease, anticipating but managing to keep himself calm at the same time. This boy confused me. He confused me and made me want to cry, but he also made me never want to be alone again. Instead of laughing I looked into his eyes and simply asked, "is it me?"

He paused for a moment, staring up into my eyes from his position below me and,

"It is."

I kissed him then. I let the tears run down my face as I poured thousands of silent "thank yous" onto his lips. I needed him, and I came to learn that he needed me too. 

Kyungsoo knew everything about me. He knew all my habits, all my problems. How much I talked, or lack there of, and even how often I used the bathroom. It was odd, having someone you know nothing about anticipate your every action. It was odd but relieving. Not having to explain that I have depression in the same dull voice that I always do. Apologize for my mood swings in advance and have the constant fear of losing them for unintentionally snapping when I don't mean to.

Kyungsoo knew everything about me, but he still respected my privacy when I needed it. He had never read anything that I had written, unpublished wise of course. I showed him the most recent thing I had scribbled down on a napkin I had been given at Burger King. 

I could tell it scared him a lot, as I was very open about my thoughts and wishes of suicide. It scared him yet he looked at me with the most love in his eyes that I had ever seen. My own mum hadn't looked at me that way since around the third grade. Kyungsoo stepped forward from where we were both standing by my desk. He grabbed my wrist and brought my hand to rest on his face. He didn't have to look at the bit of skin between my hand and my arm to know what was there. He kissed the space lightly, and I began to cry. I'm overly emotional, at least I was told that a lot throughout secondary school. 

Kyungsoo let go of my wrist and placed his own hands on my face, dragging me down and pressing his lips to mine ever so lightly. He kissed me softly, running one of his hands through my hair and making my eyes slip closed. The tears continued to come, mixing on our tongues as they ran in between our mouths. Neither of us minded much. Kyungsoo pressed his body against mine and smiled when I let out a gasp, disconnecting our lips and burying his head into my nape. I allowed my chin to rest on the top of his head, wrapping my arms around his shoulders and swaying. 

For the first time in a long, long time, I was happy. I was happy and although I didn't know Kyungsoo well, he promised to never leave me. He promised and, 

I believed him.

**Author's Note:**

> this was meant to be an epic "wow" factor and a type of insight on people who suffer from depression or anxiety or mental illnesses in general. i have depression and the beginning is how i feel most of the time. just numb. i'm okay though, i'm okay. this was meant to be a partially educational piece and also a bit enlightening as chanyeol does end up with kyungsoo. i may write another short piece in the future about happy chanyeol and kyungsoo, i haven't decided yet. thank you for reading, i hope it wasn't too much or too little for you <3


End file.
